


Hunt Me

by PirateQueenCatherine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Embarrassment, F/F, Hunting, Overstimulation, Post-Time Skip, Predator/Prey, Rope Bondage, Threat with knife, Trans Female Character, dead animal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:26:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29820759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PirateQueenCatherine/pseuds/PirateQueenCatherine
Summary: Petra Macneary did not enjoy the food at Garreg Mach, and where possible, she would find (and hunt) her own prey.Sometimes, her prey was found within the walls of the monastery.
Relationships: Petra Macneary/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Hunt Me

**Author's Note:**

> Note: please read the tags for content warnings.

The food at Garreg Mach was always disappointing. It was why few students refused the professor’s offers to cook, much to the chagrin of the chefs. The cleanup wasn’t the problem (unless Caspar or Hilda were involved), it was the mild insult that perhaps their cooking wasn’t quite good enough. It was hard to get good ingredients, let alone give 300 meals the attention they needed.

Petra found them especially disappointing. Not that she didn’t respect or appreciate the food and the preparation that went into it, but it felt like one of the things Fódlan never got right. They had the ingredients, just...different palates, she’d say. The food had only gotten worse after the war had begun, but there were no surprises there. Quality ingredients weren’t exactly on Emperor Edelgard’s shopping list.

She had taken matters into her own hands. Ignoring warnings not to leave monastery grounds, Petra would find game of her own. 

Rabbits were easy to catch in a trap. On the rare occasion she desired fish, Professor Byleth would help at a nearby lake. There were more than enough ways to cook them herself, whether she was able to sneak into the kitchens or not, but the much harder job was finding something to eat it with. 

Wild herbs weren’t exactly common around the monastery, vegetables less so. It was definitely possible to poach some carrots, potatoes, even a pumpkin once from the back of a cart, but herbs? Because of one Miss Von Varley and the care she gave to those plants, the greenhouse was rarely without someone watching for anyone coming in. In some ways, it was monitored more than the war room. Nobody went in or out without Bernadetta noticing, even if it sometimes took a few days of sleuthing to discover the culprit. 

But Petra wasn’t going to let her efforts go to waste on a bland stew that tasted as pallid as it looked. There had to be some substance, something she could do. A stem she could pluck among a hundred others, a cutting that would, otherwise, go to waste.

The sun had been set for some hours by the time she returned to the monastery. Nothing worth eating was about in the day, and the first thirty minutes of sunset were the perfect time to catch something before her eyesight just couldn’t track movement in the undergrowth of the forest any more

Which also, thankfully, meant the monastery was quiet. Most of the people living there had retired to their rooms, and those still wandering about were, typically, guards looking for anything out of the ordinary and merchants moving out goods. Bernadetta would probably be back in her chambers, leaving the greenhouse empty. Walk with some purpose, she thought and the guards won’t question you being out and probably won’t notice the carcass hooked onto a belt. 

She was right about the guards, they knew Petra, they knew better than to interrogate her on why she was out. She was not, however, right about Bernadetta.

Upon creeping into the greenhouse, it took a moment before she noticed the woman crouched behind a corner. Not to hide, not nowadays, as much as people sometimes thought that was the case. She just had a habit of sticking her head deep into the flowerbeds to remove cuttings when needed. On more than one occasion she had come to a meeting with a leaf or branch accidentally stuck in her lavender hair. 

“Oh! Petra!” She exclaimed, immediately noticing her visitor. People coming in to visit were rare, especially at this time of night. With an excited yelp she stood up straight, forgetting the fact she was buried underneath the plants, accidentally tearing a couple leaves and a few more petals as her head tore out of the undergrowth.

Petra immediately shuffled her feet, turning her left hip away and back to the door. She wanted to hide the deceased rabbit with its newly dyed red fur. 

“Hello, Bernadetta. You have...a nest in your hair.”

Both of them giggled as Bernadetta picked out what she could feel. It had made her hair a mess, but her hair was already typically made up in such a way that it usually fell back to something at least mildly resembling an intentional style. The perfect solution for someone who did not want to spend hours making up their hair was always a cut that fell into place after a wash. 

Most of it came out with ease, aside from a leaf that stuck up vertically, as if the woman was permanently in a state of surprise.

“It’s late, Petra, and I’ve never seen you around in here before, is everything alright?” Bernadetta asked, oblivious to her own appearance.

Of course she would worry immediately, Petra thought. She did her best to make it look like a friendly visit, but Miss Varley of course took it to mean something was wrong. 

“Yes, everything is alright. I…”

It was at that moment Petra realised she hadn’t come up with an excuse for coming in here. She knew how to deal with guards, Byleth, and her old teachers, but had no reason to be in the greenhouse when pressed by Bernadetta. And she clearly wasn’t stupid enough to fall for some ‘I got lost’ lie. 

“I want to ask for some herbs.”

Better to be blunt and honest about it.

“Herbs? Are you running errands for the kitchen now, Petra? I told them it’s not really safe, some of the plants in here are very dangerous, and if they were to take even one from the wrong plant it could make some people very ill, I wouldn’t want that to happen, you saw what happened when Caspar got hungry and thought he could just eat anything in here…”

It was hard to forget that time, Caspar’s eyes went crimson, he drooled uncontrollably, and his muscles bulged through his skin for three days, all because he ate a carrot. Admittedly, it was a carrot that had been grown next to a collection of toxic berries.

“It is not for the kitchen. I am doing some cooking, and thought it would be okay if I asked for something to go with it.”

With a beaming smile, Bernadetta nodded. She enjoyed cooking, more than she let on, and cherished time spent in the kitchen. There was no way she was ever able to do it alone, feeling too much of a burden to ask the kitchen staff to take a corner and only feeling comfortable on the rare occasion Professor Byleth invited her to spend some time together. 

“Of course!” She replied, rushing around the greenhouse, seeing what plants had sprouted enough to take something off. “What are you making? My chives are doing really well, I think I have some parsley too!”

Bernadetta’s full rambling began there, half of it directed towards Petra, the other half towards the plants themselves. None of it helped that much, Petra knew she wanted rosemary, garlic, or sage, but wanted to let Bernadetta babble on. It was sweet to see her excitement manifest so obviously.

It stopped, though, when Bernadetta had run the full way around the greenhouse, and saw the body at Petra’s side. 

“O-oh! Rabbit?” Her voice trembled, eyes fixated on the corpse. Its limbs didn’t sway as she expected, rigor mortis set it as if it were permanently in a leap, fleeing from Petra. It must have been scared when it died, she thought. 

“Yes, I was attempting to hide the body from you.” She said, bluntly. “I can get rid of it if you would like.”

“Nono,” Bernadetta cried, trying not to impose upon her guest. In fact, it was also the opposite: she was morbidly curious. “I just was surprised that...actually, how _did_ you catch a rabbit?”

“How did I catch it?”

“I assume you didn’t...just outrun it?”

Petra smiled to herself.

“No, I set up a trap last night. When I went out this evening, its leg was caught in some rope and I snapped its neck.”

Despite the nonchalant response, Petra was concerned Bernadetta probably did not want to see that. Being aware of where your food comes from is one thing, but the corpse itself is a lot more distressing. 

Just, not to a woman with a distinct interest in the grotesque.

“I am sorry, Bernadetta, I am sure you did not want to see-”

“It’s fine.” She replied, cutting Petra off with a mild outburst. “I actually...don’t mind seeing animals like that.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not like I don’t know where my food comes from. And besides...there’s some carnivorous plants in here that do much more gross things. Did you know that pitcher plants can grow big enough to eat rats? We had a few before Hubert told me off, he said the smell of the half-digested insects was gross so I had to get rid of them and the fungus section…”

“Bernadetta?”

“Sorry, yes, uhm, that’s beside the point! What I meant to say is I don’t mind seeing a dead animal. Not if you killed it humanely and are using it…?”

“Of course.”

“Of course!”

Silly Bernadetta, she thought to herself, of course Petra wouldn’t kill for no reason! It just looked scared because it would have been trapped, is all. Her mind raced, her expression a kind of blank that only comes about when she started to overthink.

“Since you do not mind, would you like to come cook with me?”

Petra was good with hunting, and she was good at cooking, but if there was one thing it missed, it was company. Food was best shared, and Bernadetta was certainly one of the better chefs out of her friends at Garreg Mach. It was a friendly proposal to pass the evening - or, night, as it had now reached - by.

In Bernadetta’s mind, though, there were a million more reasons beyond just being friendly. Was it an apology, an offer of sympathy for feeling as though she had insulted Bernadetta by bringing this animal into the greenhouse? Was it a threat, forcing her to be complicit in hunting outside the grounds when Emperor Edelgard had specifically told them not to? Ulterior motives were so hard to figure out, she thought. 

But...surely there was no harm in just going along with it?

“Let me just finish up here, if that’s okay? I can bring some herbs!”

“I will be seeing you in the kitchens, Miss Varley.”

Petra smiled and walked out, glad that things went far better than expected. She had expected Bernadetta to tell her to get out of the greenhouse, or to tell her not to bring in an animal like that.

Not to...be almost enthusiastic about it. An offer of cooked food is always nice but Bernadetta’s demeanour was closer to morbid, passionate curiosity. Far from the hermit that, frankly, everyone expected when interrupting Bernadetta’s personal interests.

The company would be welcomed. It just took some getting used to.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The two of them were, thankfully, undisturbed as they cooked. Petra showed a surprisingly settled Bernadetta how to skin the rabbit, the two of them cooked it together, and sat down at one of the tables to eat together. When it was empty and lit by just a pair of candles, the whole place felt oversized to Bernadetta, the ceilings too high, furniture too unwieldy and large. Almost as though she were trespassing through a giant’s home. 

And the meal was delicious. Petra wanted to cook a stew, but it was far too late to cook it properly. Instead they fried it off, cooked potatoes, tomatoes, and mushrooms before bringing it all together to boil until fully cooked, with Bernadetta’s herbs to help flavour. 

Neither of them spoke much as they cooked, and even less as they ate. In fact, Bernadetta made more sounds of contentment at the meal than she did for the words said to Petra. After finishing her plate, long after an overexcited Bernadetta had to hold herself back from licking the plate clean, Petra began conversation. 

“So Bernadetta. You said you wanted to know how I caught the rabbit, yes?”

If she still had food to eat, the woman would have choked on it.

“Oh! Mm, yes!” She stuttered, shuffling her feet back and forth under the table. Petra sat upright, as if to begin a tale. 

“I never hunted back in Brigid. I would see people do it but never myself. But when I arrived at Garreg Mach...Bernadetta, the food in Fódlan is bad. It is a bland and flavourless place here. Even the meat is...it is like everything is grey.

“I cannot cook every night, but I started to learn how to hunt some extra food. Seteth scolded me for doing so, but I learned how to catch things like rabbits. They are...easy to catch, if you know what to do.”

Bernadetta struggled to look Petra (or anyone for that matter) in the eye at the best of times, but her description of catching rabbits made her uneasy. She put her hands between her legs, closing her thighs up around them and wriggling slightly as Petra continued. 

“I have set up traps before, but they used to be messy. Sometimes they would be broken apart in the wind, or just turn a rabbit into a sitting bird for a fox or wolf.”

“Duck.”

“Ducks don’t eat rabbits, Bernadetta!”

“No, I mean...right, yes, carry on.”

“I only go out when I can watch the trap from afar. Once it is sprung, I will take the rabbit and kill it quickly.”

“Just...there on the ground?”

“Yes, I usually snap the neck.”

“Like...you know, just…”

Bernadetta did her best to make a cracking noise with her mouth. Petra nodded.

“I can show you sometime if you would like.”

A shiver ran down Bernadetta’s spine. It carried through her hips, to her thighs, which clenched together.

Perhaps, some years ago, she would have cried out for Petra not to kill her. Now, she...did not fully understand what she thought, but she could feel the effect of it between her legs.

“I sometimes catch them by hand, though.” Petra continued. “I have a few supplies, a net and some spare rope.”

“A...net?” Bernadetta squeaked.

“Yes. A net. Have you seen one?” She teased. It was unclear whether she was teasing because she recognised the reaction Bernadetta was having, or because she just enjoyed poking fun.

“Of course I have! I just...didn’t expect that.”

Petra leaned forward.

“Yes, sometimes I will wear something that helps me blend in and catch them myself. Sometimes they run but I can usually throw the net and drag rabbits in.”

‘Sometimes they run,’ Bernadetta repeated to herself mentally.

“They are my prey, after all.”

When they were back in the greenhouse, Bernadetta struggled to read Petra’s motives. It was even less clear now, and she had no idea how to determine if Petra was aware of her sentences.

“And what about you, Bernadetta?”

She gulped. Her cheeks bloomed deep red.

“About...me?”

“Yes. What about you?”

* * *

Oh, Petra knew exactly what she was doing.

The first time she messed up a common Fódlan phrase, it was an accident. That was many years ago. Since then, she decided that not only should she probably try to learn any time she does screw one up, she could use it for some fun.

This extended past jokes about her turns of phrase. People assumed she did not know what she was saying, as if the subtleties of the language, innuendos and metaphors and wink-wink-nudge-nudges were, somehow, invisible to her. People - usually people who did not last long when held to Emperor Edelgard’s standards - would speak as if she could not read between the lines if they wanted to withhold information from her.

It meant she frequently knew more than she was meant to. It also meant that when she was placed in front of someone like Bernadetta, who struggled to notice when someone had a vested interest in her, she could make the girl squirm with ease.

If she was right, and she usually was about these sorts of things, Bernadetta would be sat on the other side of the table feeling like she was growing even smaller. Her shoulders looking like they were sinking into her chest only made that clear. 

But she would also be sat there wondering what Petra was getting at. It was as though there was something in her mind that prevented her from ever coming to the conclusion ‘Petra MacNeary is flirting with you, Bernadetta Von Varley.’ She would run through every possibility before even considering that, perhaps, this was flirting.

It only made it more fun to tease her.

* * *

The concept of prey came up in conversations between Petra and Bernadetta frequently. Originally it came up in a characteristically blunt moment some years prior, where Petra described Bernadetta as being like prey. Always on edge, always worried that something will bring danger. When you are prey, there is no fight or flight, only an excessive vigilance for the nearest exit. 

Despite her attempts to encourage Bernadetta to learn how to hunt, it never really worked. Once she watched on as a rabbit chased a sword-wielding Bernie out of the fields surrounding Garreg Mach.

Some people were naturally prey. Even to the softest and most gentle creatures, Bernadetta Von Varley was prey.

And she was the kind that would get off to it. Because prey are hunted.

She sat across from Petra squirming, a fight or flight response bubbling away underneath it all. Feeling small, weak, at the mercy of her friend, she could not answer the question. 

Fiddling with the hem of her dress, in an attempt to hide the fidgeting and wriggling, she stared down at what was left of her meal. 

Petra eyed up her second course.

“It is probably the hour for us to get up.”

She stood straight, leaning forward over the table and towards the writhing creature. Nothing more was said or done, she simply stood there, looking down at Bernadetta.

“I, uh, yes, it’s late, and, uh, yes, thank you, P...P…”

She stuttered on that letter for ten seconds, unable to say Petra’s name. Petra simply smiled and let Bernadetta continue to embarrass herself with an inability to function. 

“P...P…” She continued, face turning more crimson with each failed attempt at saying something.

Eventually, Petra leaned in to solve it. Far over the table, one hand down on it as she lowered her face to meet Bernadetta’s, tilting her chin up carefully with a finger. 

“Petra. You can say it: thank you, Petra.”

“T...Th…”

The stuttering only got worse as the prey was forced to look into the hunter’s eyes. 

With a smirk and a giggle, Petra stood back upright, tapping Bernadetta’s soft, swollen cheek as she did. It was so she could walk over the table: with one boot on the chair, she boosted herself up and onto the table, one foot either side of Bernadetta’s meal. The mess that sat in the chair looked down between her legs, never up.

To force it, Petra placed a foot on the back of Bernadetta’s chair. She pushed it backwards, onto its rear legs, making Bernadetta squeal and grip onto the seat with one hand and the table with another. Not only did it force her to look up and see Petra’s gaze, it was from the perspective of being at the end of her leg, heel of her boot pinning Bernadetta’s hair down to the chair. 

She gulped.

“T...thank you, Petra.”

“The prey speaks!” Petra exclaimed, smiling to herself. “I wonder what other noises you make.”

With that, she kicked that boot forward just an inch, sending the chair - and Bernadetta - into freefall. She squealed and yelped, reaching up and grabbing Petra by the ankle, now at a full 45 degree lean towards the floor. If she let go, she and the chair she had hooked herself to with her knees would crash to the floor.

But that moment of freefall gave Petra a look at her face with true fear, that sort of terror that could only be created by falling, the sort that would wake you up at 4 in the morning in a sweat. 

She pulled her leg back, helping Bernadetta get her chair back on all fours, before jumping off the table, landing with a thud. 

“Come with me.” The teasing had turned into straight orders by that point. Petra walked to a door as Bernadetta stared on, her legs feeling like jelly. 

After Petra had reached the door, she looked back.

“Bernadetta. Do I need to be tying you to my belt too?”

That got her walking, following Petra like a lost puppy. She was led through the monastery grounds to the sleeping quarters, and Petra’s room. Bernadetta was silent the whole way, save for soft murmurs and squeaks.

Inside her room it was clean, and far, far more organised than a certain recluse’s. Her bed was even made! 

“I will be blunt, Bernadetta.” She explained, closing the door behind them both and locking it, she hoped for the whole night. “Are you understanding of why I am teasing you?”

The only reply was a vague but affirming nod. Petra smirked.

“A nod does not quite answer my question.”

Distracting herself, Bernadetta examined the room, running a hand along the wall and Petra’s desk. It was so clean and tidy, even the papers from the meeting they had had earlier that day were already filed away. Bernadetta’s were...strewn around the foot of her bed, probably? Maybe. Somewhere around there, anyway. She could find them if she needed them.

“Bernadetta.” Petra said with a stern voice. “Do you understand?”

After completing a full loop of the bedroom, Bernadetta found herself face to face with Petra once more. She tried to simply nod again, but a raised eyebrow ‘encouraged’ her to vocalise it.

“Yes, I know, you’re...uhm. Flirting? Is...that it?”

Petra did not respond.

“But I might be wrong! I...don’t want to read into it too much if this is just you being, uhm, what is it Caspar says...if this is banter? Is that what this is? I’m sorry for getting it wrong, I thought maybe you were flirting, and, uhm, I got myself all worked up over it, and-”

Bernadetta had an uncanny ability to talk for minutes straight without taking a single breath. It was as though those times she did not speak she was saving up words to spew out.

Petra enjoyed listening and watching Bernadetta panic.

After listening to her ramble for what could have been ten minutes, neither of them was exactly counting, she leaned forward. 

“Yes, it is flirting.”

With one hand on Bernadetta’s cheek, she kissed her. That was certainly the correct way to describe it, Bernadetta was too shocked to respond. Petra made all the movements as her lips pressed against Bernadetta’s, her tongue gently and carefully doing the work of parting both of their lips for them. 

While nobody pulled away from the kiss, it wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic response. Bernadetta was stunned, paralysed. Even after Petra finished, standing back straight and awaiting a response, she had no reply.

“Bernadetta. I am needing to know if you are enjoying it.”

Still nothing. Her eyes were glazed over, although they tracked Petra as she walked from the door to sit on her bed. 

“I...I am.” 

At least she replied eventually.

“You are what?”

“P-Petra! Stop making me explain!”

“I just want to know what you are meaning.” 

Petra knew exactly what Bernadetta meant.

She just enjoyed making the girl say it out loud, and watch her wriggle, squirm, and adjust her underwear as she did. 

* * *

It took around eight minutes for one full, coherent sentence to be formed. 

“I enjoyed kissing you!”

“That is not all of it.”

Bernadetta stamped her foot. 

“What do you want me to say! You can see I’m...I’m…”

As she spoke, her hands clung on to the bottom of her dress, much as it ruined her posture. A bad habit. This time, it was a bad habit because the growing heat between her legs started to lift the dress, just a little. 

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Mm..hmm.” A vague, but affirmative hum.

“What did you enjoy?”

She stamped a foot again.

“You are aware that rabbits hit their feet when they are excited?”

“PETRA!” Bernadetta squealed, doing her best not to stamp a foot and succumb to the teasing, but instinctively raising it only to lower back down slowly.

Bernadetta had started sweating, and the attempts to hide herself were proving less effective every second that passed. As if Petra hadn’t noticed the half-grown bulge when they left the dining hall. 

“I will be stopping teasing.” Petra conceded, standing up to face Bernadetta. “You do not have to say anything, but I am right that you are enjoying me?”

A gentle but enthusiastic nod. 

“And you would be saying if you are not enjoying?”

Another nod.

“Then you are enjoying being my prey?”

A gulp. And a nod.

Petra leaned in to whisper her final sentence.

“Then try to get away, little rabbit.”

She gnashed her teeth an inch from Bernadetta’s ear, biting her hair so that when the girl yelped and jumped backwards, it tugged on her, pulling out a few purple strands. Picking hair from her teeth, Petra prowled forward, swaying a little. 

A hand was on her knife. Her gaze never moved from Bernadetta. It was as though she were someone different. With each step forward Petra took, her prey took one backwards, towards the door. 

Of course it was locked. When had Petra locked it, Bernadetta thought in between the thousand other thoughts, half of which involved working out how she could both run and hide her twitching. None of her thoughts could finish before Petra took another step, backing Bernadetta into a corner.

The next step, Petra stamped her foot down. The rabbit yelped, leaping a full 6 inches backwards.

At the next step, Bernadetta realised in another few seconds she would be cornered too strongly, Petra would be almost within arm’s reach to grab at her or much, much worse, considering the knife in one hand. 

So she dove. Putting her whole body behind it, she dove right, skidding along the floor (and grazing her thigh in the process). Petra reached down to grab at Bernadetta, but missed, arms swinging out and not catching on anything in particular. 

Petra thought about how glad she was that Bernadetta didn’t just lay down and die. No, she would have to catch her. And restrain her, she hoped.

Crawling back along the floor, leaking between her legs, Bernadetta struggled to decide what to do. Jump out the window! A voice in the back of her cried, before it was ignored for taking this a touch too seriously. Petra wasn’t actually hunting her. 

She thought, at least, until the knife in Petra’s hand was unsheathed, and aimed at her neck.

Out the window, out the window, out the window!

Scrambling to her feet, she turned her back to Petra, and towards the windows at the back of the room. The only problem was that they were about five feet above the ground, not exactly a height she was able to comfortably dive through. The fact they had thick glass was also somewhat of a hindrance. 

But there was a desk! Thankfully, one free of papers and much of anything other than some cumbersome books. So she climbed up onto it, wincing as her grazed skin rubbed against the wood for a moment. 

“Eeeee!” 

After making it up onto the desk and fiddling with the lock on the windows, Petra caught up. She took hold of Bernadetta’s right ankle, trying to keep her from doing anything stupid. But that tight grip panicked the girl, who lost her balance, toppling over on the desk and onto her side. 

If she was anyone else, she could easily break out of that grip. It wasn’t exactly controlling, and Bernadetta was far stronger than she appeared. She had the muscles an archer needed: a rock solid core, biceps almost the size of her fists, and thighs that could kick away an attacker if needed.

But Bernadetta was not a fighter. When cornered, she curled up and hoped for the best.

So with Petra’s hand on her ankle, she curled up atop the desk, pulling her free leg in towards her chest, and tried not to look as the knife was raised.

* * *

It was buried into the desk with a thud.

Between her legs the knife was thrust downward, stuck erect in the desk and pierced straight through her dress. It pinned Bernadetta down, assuming she didn’t want to tear her clothes off immediately.

“Usually this is where I would kill you, rabbit.” Petra growled, taking a step to the side, behind a tall bookcase and out of Bernadetta’s view. She returned with coarse, thick, dry rope. 

“But the prey keeps better if it is kept fresh.”

She reached down and took both of Bernadetta’s ankles, wrapping the rope around them. It was not the sort of rope that was gentle on the skin, slipping over it gently, it was the sort of rope that immediately began to scratch. It dug into her flesh and would leave deep red marks soon. 

However she still did not fight back. It was a combination of the paralysing fear and the complete vulnerability prey animals would show when caught that meant she simply went along with it. It was just that she also was creating a mess in her underwear that was increasingly difficult to ignore.

It was only after Petra had made sure Bernadetta’s legs were bound tightly enough together that she gave it any attention. 

She did so by starting to strip Bernadetta. That started by exposing her cock. With the dress still pinned to the desk by the knife, Petra reached underneath the front of it and took ahold of both the shorts and panties around Bernadetta’s waist, tugging them down and freeing that member from any sort of restraint. 

Of course, Bernadetta squealed. She squealed as everything felt, somehow, more real now that she was exposed (her experience with Hubert meant knives were almost a formality at this point, it was when she felt the cold air on her skin that she was truly vulnerable). The rest of her body twitched and squirmed almost as much as her cock, which looked as much like prey as the rest of her.

Then came her torso. That was much more awkward for Petra to remove in a way to not bruise her quarry. Fortunately, there was more than enough of her pale shutin skin to go around that she didn’t mind leaving what would probably be a few sore spots in the morning. So she grabbed at Bernie, one hand lifting the dress up along her waist as another held a tight grip on her shoulder. 

There was little concern for Bernadetta, and she winced and shook as Petra left sore patches and pinched skin while the dress was forced off. The bra came last, although rather than being torn off it fell dejectedly onto the desk from her chest. Other than the underwear tangled up in the rope around her ankles, Bernadetta was naked, almost snow white with only patches of red bruising like the game they had eaten not an hour before.

Her cock leaked and twitched, and she wriggled about as if not knowing what to do with her limbs. Petra did.

Grabbing at the girl’s wrists, she pulled them down, bending Bernadetta forward awkwardly. And with the rest of the rope that had been dangling down off the desk, she wrapped it around her wrists, hogtying her on the desk.

For some reason it took until now for Bernadetta’s vocal chords to begin her resistance. It didn’t do much good to loosen the bonds, but she screeched, a high pitched ‘eee’ not unlike that of an animal. Petra sighed. 

“I was not planning on sharing you, but I might have to if you are going to make everyone know about your state.”

Her eyes bulged. Her cock spasmed between her thighs.

With a grip on the knot between Bernadetta’s limbs, Petra lifted her up, spinning her on the desk to face the wall, away from the room. Her bare ass, though, was directed at Petra, who gave it a firm smack.

“Ahh, fuck!” Bernadetta squealed.

“If you say one more word I will gag you with your own ruined underwear, little rabbit.”

“...mmm…” She replied.

Another smack on her ass. This time Bernadetta bit her lip and curled her toes.

The one thing Petra couldn’t see from here was Bernadetta’s cock. That certainly was unacceptable: the way it twitched and leaked revealed as much about her thought as the whimpers she made. So she forcefully parted the girl’s knees as much as was possible around the rope, and pulled on her cock. 

After letting go of Bernadetta’s legs, they pinched back together leaving her member twitching and visible from behind, nestled between thighs. Almost immediately, the girl started leaking a trail of sticky precum down one.

There were few people worse at hiding their true face than Miss Bernadetta von Varley, and apparently that applied to the rest of her body too. Every time Petra touched her bare skin, something, somewhere, twitched. Whether it was her cock, her legs, her hands, even her now almost-visible asshole, something would respond positively. 

Petra smiled to herself, a part of her wanting to sit back and masturbate while admiring her prize from this angle. Or she could find a strapon, pull Bernadetta to the edge of the table, and see how long it would take for the girl to scream out with overwhelming sensations. 

But going by that leaky pipe, the girl wasn’t exactly built to last long. 

“Little bunny, when animals are hunted to be eaten,” Petra spoke, moving around the room behind Bernadetta in such a way that the girl had no idea what was being done or arranged, “they are prepared by being drained. A knife is used on the throat. And the animal…” She grabbed at Bernadetta’s foot, lifting her by it 20 degrees off the table.

“...is hanged up.”

The girl squeaked. A voice screamed in the back of her head that it was too real, a little too scary, while a much louder one screamed about how desperately horny she started to feel. 

Petra let go, letting the girl’s lower half fall back down with a thud. 

“You need to be drained, rabbit.”

It would be wrong to call that a threat, because it wasn’t like Bernadetta had any way to prevent it from happening. Instead Petra immediately put one hand on that spasming cock, squeezing it as if to help precum squirt out.

And with the other, she spread Bernadetta’s ass. Lifting one cheek, exposing the muscles a little to run her middle finger down over the girl’s perineum and causing an uncontrolled tremor as she did. 

Her knuckles quickly had a trail of cloudy liquid running down them at just that. 

But to be sure, Petra wanted to milk Bernadetta dry. From a small jar placed on the table earlier, she scooped a fingertip of translucent lubricant. Just enough for the one finger. It was cold to Petra’s finger: it would feel freezing to Bernadetta’s warm hole. 

“EeeEEEE!” She squealed, wiggling about like a catch who just realised their surroundings. Despite not being able to move far, Bernadetta von Varley was definitely able to squeal loud enough for all of Garreg Mach to hear, and the thumps of her hands and feet against the table only made it clearer.

Hopefully everyone just thought that was another case of Bernadetta being spooked by an ominous Hubert, Petra thought to herself as she continued. 

Pushing, and squeezing the girl’s cock at the same time, Petra pushed the tip of her finger into Bernadetta, just to the first knuckle. One finger was easy. She was so twitchy, even internally her muscles continued to move like jolts of electricity were jumping through her.

Her hands were full, now, so there was no physical way to shut Bernadetta’s far-too-vocal mouth. The much better solution would be to keep going until she wore herself out.

So Petra pushed deeper, finger continuing to slide in with ease until Petra was able to have enough inside that she could curl it. Just a few degrees on each knuckle, until she reached that perfect spot.

The screeching and wailing like an animal had stopped now, instead Bernadetta was panting. Her hair was a mess, she was sweating, her nipples were hard and sensitive enough that even the cool air was a part of the teasing, especially since an ajar window blew over her.

And she could feel herself leaking, enough that her foreskin was easily pulled back, and that Petra’s hand around the shaft had become slippery. Each tiny, miniscule movement made it feel better, even if she knew that when she started orgasming the sensations would only continue.

To be drained, Petra would almost certainly keep going after an orgasm. The fear of that overstimulation drove Bernadetta closer to it happening.

Petra started by applying a little pressure, like nocking an arrow. Gently, carefully, a fingertip against the prostate, using her other hand to gauge how Bernadetta responded. 

A strong throb.

With a grin, a little more. 

A glob of precum fell straight onto the desk. 

The bow drawn, more pressure. The grip on Bernadetta’s member tightened. 

It stopped, although she could hear a strained whimper from Bernadetta’s mouth. While her cock didn’t respond, every muscle in her core did. Thighs clenched together, anything that could curl up - fingers, toes, as much of her body as could move against the rope - did. 

  
Keep the bowstring taught. 

“Hnn…ahn...eee…” Bernadetta mumbled.

And loose the arrow.

Petra pushed in on Bernadetta’s prostate a little more before letting back, although maintaining a grasp on her shaft. With a rush of blood to the surface of her skin, making the rabbit flush pink, an orgasm took over. 

Jet after jet of pure white come coated the back of Bernadetta’s thighs. The third, or maybe the fifth, pump coated Petra’s hand. She did not let go.

Instead she went to nock another bow.

Bernadetta was silent to all but perhaps any creatures with a hearing range above that of a human’s, her mouth opening wide during all of this but nothing coming out, her vocal chords singing despite nothing audible being made.

But when Petra’s finger touched her prostate again, Bernadetta squealed. She screamed and howled and could not stop herself from shaking. Every muscle vibrated back and forth while her cock twitched with each beat of her overpaced heart. 

After fifteen seconds of screaming, Petra knew she had to stop the girl. With her right hand, the one wrapped around Bernadetta, she reached up, and covered her mouth. It didn’t do much other than muffled the screaming and smear the mess over Bernadetta’s lips, cheeks, and hair, but it at least meant nobody else would hear her as another arrow was fired.

With a rhythm, she continued until not a single drop more could come out. Bernadetta’s muscles continued to twitch as if the orgasm was ongoing, but instead of making more, her balls ached and she felt truly spent. Conveniently, her voice had grown hoarse by that point, her eyes closed from exhaustion, and Petra was safe to pull that hand away. 

There was an instinct to wipe it up on one of the few dry patches on Bernadetta’s thighs, but it was a bad habit to make your catch’s fur dirty.

Instead she took a step back, pulling out of Bernadetta and wiping herself on a handkerchief. 

Both of them panted, but Petra was able to at least stand. Her legs did not continue to wobble even when laying down. After giving Bernadetta a moment, Petra took a step back closer. After resting a hand on the girl’s shoulder, she jumped, at least as much as her burning muscles allowed her. Truly her prey, the hunter thought.

“May I be cutting you free?” Petra asked, doing her best to sound as gentle and kind as possible.

Bernadetta quivered. And nodded.

Her body continued to react to any touch, especially that of the knife Petra used to cut the rope away, freeing Bernadetta’s limbs. Her wrists and ankles were raw, bright red and sore. 

She didn’t immediately pull her hands back up and stretch her legs out, though, Bernadetta lay there, still panting.

“And may I take you to the bed?”

Bernadetta nodded. And quivered.

She was at least small enough to carry, Petra thought, as she tried to carry her across the floor. Come dripped from her skin as she was carried, and more of it smeared along Petra’s clothes, but neither of them minded.

Placed on top of the blankets, it was as though Bernadetta were drifting in and out of consciousness. From her perspective, it felt like she had teleported from the table to the bed, and as though Petra had flicked around the room before arriving at her side, carefully rubbing a gel into Bernadetta’s sore skin. Her wrists were already feeling better by the time Bernadetta noticed it happening, able to lift her head and watch Petra, kneeling on the floor, massaging it into her ankles.

“Bernadetta. How are you feeling?” Petra asked, with a smile.

“...mmm…” She replied, not quite content with it as an answer so adding a vaguely more positive ‘mmf’ afterwards.

Petra giggled.

“A-and you?” Bernadetta asked, suddenly worrying intensely about if she had somehow hurt Petra with her...squirming? Maybe?

“I am excellent and happy. I was enjoying you.”

“W-Was?” She stuttered, pulling a blanket over her chest to cover it somewhat. It only covered half a nipple.

“I am still enjoying you!” Petra clarified, climbing onto the bed. “Are you comfortable with me joining you?”

“I-it’s your room!” Bernadetta exclaimed.

“...is that meaning a yes?”

“Yes!”

Petra laughed, shaking her head and climbing up the bed alongside Bernadetta. Her arm was quickly stolen, so Bernadetta could cling onto it like a soft toy. She still quivered sometimes, but the two of them lay there quietly.

After looking intently into Petra’s eyes, Bernadetta finally jolted up. 

“Oh my goddess.”   


“Is everything okay, Bernadetta?”

“How am I going to explain the red wrists to Edelgard for the meeting tomorrow?”

“I am thinking she probably heard you anyway.”

“SHE WHAT?” Bernadetta screamed. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Btw the title of this fic is from a Vernon Jane song because they make very good fucky music xoxoxo


End file.
